Being a Christian is like being a pumpkin.

God lifts you up, takes you in,and washes all the dirt off of you.
He opens you up, touches you deep inside and scoops out all the yucky stuff-- including the seeds of doubt, hate, greed, etc.

Then He carves you a new smiling face and puts His light inside you to shine for all the world to see.
 

A very happy Autumn to you!

Blessings!

The World From My Camera

You know autumn is here

when you see falling leaves,

white skeletal trees,

and a background of gorgeous blue sky.

 

Have you got a favorite autumn scene?

Blessings!

Melted then Molded

I'm welcoming Linda Rondeau back to my blog today. She's the award-winning author of The Other Side of Darkness and the recently released America II. Check out her bio below. Now her post:




“But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name” (John 1:12 KJV).

The popular church chorus asks God to descend and set the hearts of His children on fire, to spread a blaze across the nations.

I wonder sometimes if we truly understand for what we ask. Too often we pray for the result but are not willing to endure the process to obtain it.

Fire consumes. I remember driving through an area in the Adirondacks hit by a wildfire. Not a green speck left. All the charred remains stood naked and seemingly beyond hope. But, fire also purifies through the melting process.

Unlike a wild, untamed forest fire, God’s fire has purpose.

Lisa went into the hospital for what she thought would be a simple appendectomy only to discover she had a rare form of invasive abdominal cancer. Her husband said, “After the shock wore off, I was pretty angry. She is so young, healthy and takes good care of herself, why did this happen? What would I do without her? How do I deal with our kids? 　There was a calmness that came to me while in the middle of this storm. It was clarity and can be attributed to the Holy Spirit as it certainly didn't come from me. 　I never thought to question God as to why he'd bless me with a beautiful wife, wonderful children and a wonderful and supportive family. 　How could I be mad at the loss when God had blessed me with so much?”

As a result of Shawn and Lisa’s obedience within this trial, God’s glory is seen through their lives as they post their struggle on a cancer-care website for the world to see. Their posts continue to extol the magnificence of God’s grace, blessings within the firestorm. Shawn writes that God’s grace is shown to them every day through the outpouring of love. Most of all, God’s Holy Spirit is revealed through their children’s strength, their big family their mission field.

I believe that through God’s melting and molding process he reveals Himself to us in ways we would never know if we did not submit to His all-consuming fire.

In Daniel 3, we read the familiar story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, the captive Israelites who refused to bow down before the image of the King, even though they knew the punishment would be death by fire. “If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.”

When the king looked into the furnace, he saw a fourth figure, that of a son of God. Through the Glory revealed by the obedience of three Israelite slaves, King Nebuchadnezzar extolled the God of Shadrach, Meschach, and Abednego.

Are you experiencing firestorms in your family? Are you angry and feel that these difficulties are undeserved? Perhaps God has not sent you punishment, but rather wants to walk with you in the furnace, to show you His Glory. And through this melting and molding process, equip you to be His blessing, the flame that ignites a dry and barren land.

“This third I will put into the fire;　I will refine them like silver and test them like gold.　
They will call on my name　and I will answer them; I will say, ‘They are my people,’　and they will say, ‘The LORD is our God’” (Zechariah 13:9 NIV).

BIO:
A graduate of Houghton College, Rondeau has spent a previous career in the field of human services, often engaged with families in crisis. She credits these experiences in human drama as the edge in creating unforgettable characters. Furthermore, her prior work has shaped her vision of a future world should current sociological issues remain unchecked over the next several decades.
After more than thirty years in the Adirondack region of Northern New York, Rondeau now resides in Jacksonville, Florida with her husband Steve and their cat Duffer. When not writing, she enjoys theater, golf, and hiking.

She is a member of the Florida Writers Association, American Christian Fiction Writers, and several on-line writing groups. She is the owner and founder of Pentalk, a community of writers that features networking pages and a blog. Rondeau contributes a monthly column to her former community newspaper entitled, This Daily Grind and maintains a blog of the same name. Other blogs include Back in the Daze.

Also writing under the name of Linda Wood Rondeau, other books by this author include The Other Side of Darkness.

You may contact the author on Facebook, Linked In, Goodreads, or Twitter or visit her on the web.

The Amazon Kindle for the novel is : http://www.amazon.com/America-II-The-Reformation-ebook/dp/B008CGFVUI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1340191492&sr=1-1&keywords=l.w.+rondeau


　

Monday Morning Gratitudes

Peaceful evenings
Warm blankets
Fun discussions
heartfelt stories
playful babies, puppies and kittens
snickers, vanilla cream peanut clusters and ice cream
real people
clean soft hair
mouthwash!

Blessings

Sunday Morning Peace

A Heartfelt Prayer:

Hi Lord, it’s me.

We are getting older and things are getting bad here. Gas prices are too high, no jobs, food and heating costs too high. I know some have taken you out of our schools, government, veteran's funerals, and even Christmas.

But Lord I'm asking you to come back and re-bless America. We really need you! There are more of us who want you than those who don't!

Thank You Lord. I Love you.
Blessings!

Those of You Born
1930 - 1979
TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED THE 1930's, 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's!

First, we survived being born to mothers
Who smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing,
Tuna from a can and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-base paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles,
Locks on doors or cabinets and when we rode
Our bikes, we had baseball caps not helmets on our heads.

As infants & children,
We would ride in cars with no car seats,
No booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes.

Riding in the back of a pick-up truck on a warm day
Was always a special treat.

We drank water
From the garden hose and not from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends,
From one bottle and no one actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter and bacon.
We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar.
And, we weren't overweight.
WHY?

Because we were
Always outside playing...that's why !

We would leave home in the morning and play all day,
As long as we were back when the
Streetlights came on.

No one was able
To reach us all day. And, we were O.K.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps
And then ride them down the hill, only to find out
we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes
a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's and X-boxes.
There were no video games, no 150 channels on cable,
No video movies or DVD's, no surround-sound or CD's,
No cell phones,

No personal computers,

no Internet and no chat rooms.

WE HAD FRIENDS
And we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth
And there were no lawsuits from these accidents.

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt,
And the worms did not live in us
Forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays,
Made up games with sticks and tennis balls and,
Although we were told it would happen,
We did not put out very many eyes.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and
Knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just
Walked in and talked to them.

Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team.
Those who didn't had to learn to deal
With disappointment.
Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law
Was unheard of.
They actually sided with the law!

These generations have produced some of the best
Risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever.

The past 50 years
Have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.
We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility,
and we learned how to deal with it all.

If YOU are one of them?
CONGRATULATIONS!

You might want to share this with others
who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the
lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives
for our own good.



Kind of makes you want to run through the house
with scissors, doesn't it ?

The quote of the month is by Jay Leno:
"With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms
tearing up the country from one end to another, and with the threat of swine flu
and terrorist attacks. Are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?' 



God determines who walks into your life....it's up to you to decide who you let walk away, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go.

I need this back. If you'll do this for me, I'll do it for you.

When there is nothing left but God, that is when you find out that God is all you need.

A Small Prayer:
Father, God bless my friend in whatever it is that You know they may need this day!
And may their life be full of your peace, prosperity, and power
as he/she seeks to have a closer relationship with you.
Amen.

Blessings!

Monday Morning Gratitudes

Hugs from children
unexpected smiles
requests for help
good discussions
nods of approval/agreement
checked off items
fall lights
crunchy sounds
new ideas for marketing
baking smells

Blessings!

Sunday Morning Peace

Merry (Happy!) hearts do good like medicine:

Pumpkins

Pumpkin spice candles

crisp apples

apple pies

roasting turkeys

baked hams

hotdogs on hickory sticks

gooey marshmallows.

AUTUMN

 

Thank you, God.

Blessings!

 



Saved by an Apple

This is a true story and you can find out more by Googling Herman
Rosenblat. He was Bar Mitzvahed at age 75.
August 1942
Piotrkow, Poland.

The sky was gloomy that morning as we waited anxiously. All the men,
women and children of Piotrkow's Jewish ghetto had been herded into a
square.

Word had gotten around that we were being moved. My father had only
recently died from typhus, which had run rampant through the crowded
ghetto. My greatest fear was that our family would be separated.

"Whatever you do," Isidore, my eldest brother, whispered to me, "don't tell them your age. Say you're sixteen."

I was tall for a boy of 11, so I could pull it off. That way I might be deemed valuable as a worker.

An SS man approached me, boots clicking against the cobblestones. He looked me up and down, and then asked my age.

"Sixteen," I said.

He directed me to the left, where my three brothers and other healthy young men already stood. My mother was motioned to the right with the other women, children, sick and elderly people.
I whispered to Isidore, “Why?”

He didn't answer.

I ran to Mama's side and said I wanted to stay with her.

“No,” she said sternly. “Get away. Don't be a nuisance. Go with your brothers.”

She had never spoken so harshly before. But I understood: She was
protecting me. She loved me so much that, just this once, she pretended not to. It was the last I ever saw of her.

My brothers and I were transported in a cattle car to Germany. We arrived at the Buchenwald concentration camp one night later and were led into a crowded barrack. The next day, we were issued uniforms and identification numbers.

“Don't call me Herman anymore.” I said to my brothers. “Call me 94983.”

I was put to work in the camp's crematorium, loading the dead into a
hand-cranked elevator. I, too, felt dead. Hardened, I had become a number.

Soon, my brothers and I were sent to Schlieben, one of Buchenwald's
sub-camps near Berlin. One morning I thought I heard my mother's voice. “Son,” she said softly but clearly, “I am going to send you an angel.”

Then I woke up. Just a dream. A beautiful dream. But in this place there could be no angels. There was only work. And hunger. And fear.

A couple of days later, I was walking around the camp, around the barracks, near the barbed-wire fence where the guards could not easily see. I was alone. On the other side of the fence, I spotted someone: a little girl with light, almost luminous curls. She was half-hidden behind a birch tree.

I glanced around to make sure no one saw me. I called to her softly
in German. “Do you have something to eat?”


She didn't understand.

I inched closer to the fence and repeated the question in Polish.


She stepped forward. I was thin and gaunt, with rags wrapped around my feet, but the girl looked unafraid. In her eyes, I saw life. She pulled an apple from her woolen jacket and threw it over the fence.

I grabbed the fruit and, as I started to run away, I heard her say faintly, “I'll see you tomorrow.”

I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day. She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread or, better yet, an apple.

We didn't dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us
both.

I didn't know anything about her, just a kind farm girl, except that
she understood Polish. What was her name? Why was she risking her life for me? Hope was in such short supply, and this girl on the other side of
the fence gave me some, as nourishing in its way as the bread and apples.

Nearly seven months later, my brothers and I were crammed into a coal car and shipped to Theresienstadt camp in Czechoslovakia .

“Don't return,” I told the girl that day. “We're leaving.” I turned toward the barracks and didn't look back, didn't even say good-bye to the little girl whose name I'd never learned, the girl with the apples.


We were in Theresienstadt for three months. The war was winding down
and Allied forces were closing in, yet my fate seemed sealed. On May 10, 1945, I was scheduled to die in the gas chamber at 10:00 AM.
In the quiet of dawn, I tried to prepare myself. So many times death
seemed ready to claim me, but somehow I'd survived. Now, it was over.
I thought of my parents.. At least, I thought, we will be reunited.

But at 8 A .M. there was a commotion. I heard shouts, and saw people
running every which way through camp. I caught up with my brothers.

Russian troops had liberated the camp! The gates swung open. Everyone was running, so I did too. Amazingly, all of my brothers had survived; I'm not sure how. But I knew that the girl with the apples had been
the key to my survival.

In a place where evil seemed triumphant, one person's goodness had
saved my life, had given me hope in a place where there was none. My mother had promised to send me an angel, and the angel had come.

Eventually I made my way to England where I was sponsored by a Jewish charity, put up in a hostel with other boys who had survived the Holocaust and trained in electronics. Then I came to America, where my brother Sam had already moved. I served in the U. S. Army during the Korean War, and returned to New York City after two years.

By August 1957 I'd opened my own electronics repair shop. I was
starting to settle in.

One day, my friend Sid who I knew from England called me. “I've got a date. She's got a Polish friend. Let's double date.”

A blind date? Nah, that wasn't for me.

But Sid kept pestering me, and a few days later we headed up to the
Bronx to pick up his date and her friend Roma.

I had to admit, for a blind date this wasn't so bad. Roma was a nurse at a Bronx hospital. She was kind and smart. Beautiful, too, with
swirling brown curls and green, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with life.
The four of us drove out to Coney Island. Roma was easy to talk to, easy to be with. Turned out she was wary of blind dates too! We were both just doing our friends a favor.

We took a stroll on the boardwalk, enjoying the salty Atlantic breeze, and then had dinner by the shore. I couldn't remember having a better time.

We piled back into Sid's car, Roma and I sharing the back seat.

As European Jews who had survived the war, we were aware that much
had been left unsaid between us. She broached the subject, “Where were you,” she asked softly, “during the war?”

“The camps,” I said, the terrible memories still vivid, the irreparable loss. I had tried to forget. But you can never forget.

She nodded. “My family was hiding on a farm in Germany, not far from
Berlin,” she told me. “My father knew a priest, and he got us Aryan papers.”

I imagined how she must have suffered too, fear, a constant companion. And yet here we were both survivors, in a new world.

“There was a camp next to the farm.” Roma continued. “I saw a boy there and I would throw him apples every day.”

What an amazing coincidence that she had helped some other boy. “What did he look like?” I asked.

“He was tall, skinny, and hungry. I must have seen him every day for six months.”

My heart was racing. I couldn't believe it. This couldn't be. “Did he tell you one day not to come back because he was leaving Schlieben?”

Roma looked at me in amazement. “Yes!”

“That was me!” I was ready to burst with joy and awe, flooded with emotions. I couldn't believe it! My angel. “I'm not letting you go.” I said to Roma. And in the back of the car on that blind date, I proposed to her. I didn't want to wait.

“You're crazy!” she said. But she invited me to meet her parents for Shabbat dinner the following week.

There was so much I looked forward to learning about Roma, but the
most important things I always knew: her steadfastness, her goodness. For
many months, in the worst of circumstances, she had come to the fence and given me hope. Now that I'd found her again, I could never let her go.

That day, she said yes. And I kept my word. After nearly 50 years of
marriage, two children and three grandchildren, I have never let her go.


--Herman Rosenblat of Miami Beach, Florida

(This story is being made into a movie called The Fence.)

Review of Power Suit: The Armor of God Fit for the Feminine Frame

by Sharon Elliott

Sharon has written an amazing book for women with daring, concrete truth for spiritual growth. It forces us to take a hard look at reality yet guides and suggests the truth with a gentleness both wise and good.

We can lean on nothing but God's truth for real victory's in our lives. Not advice from the knowledgeable people on television or radio. Not fables and old-wives sayings. Not from our own understanding. But the word of God always is true and more than strong enough to handle whatever we're facing.

The Bible is truth, it expresses truth throughout the whole of it, it commands us to buckle on the belt of truth.

If you've been hungry for growth, if you've been searching for a book to guide you into a more truthful, powerful spiritual life, check out Sharon's book here:
Amazon


Blessings!

Monday Morning Gratitudes

Good talks with good friends
Caring people
sincere apologies
favorite words
real breakthroughs
solid advice
meaningful examples
encouragement
play times with baby
autumn spice

Blessings!

Vagabond Song                                       THERE is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.
The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.
There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name. Bliss Carman. 1861– Blessings!

Old Friends

Your kids are becoming you......but your grandchildren are perfect!

~Going out is good.. Coming home is better!
~You forget names, but it's okay because other people forgot they even knew you.

~You realize you're never going to be really good at anything . . . especially golf.

~The things you used to care to do, you no longer care to do, but you really do care that you  
  don't care to do them anymore.

~You sleep better on a lounge chair with the TV blaring than in bed. It's called "pre-sleep".

~You miss the days when everything worked with just an "ON" and "OFF" Switch..

~You tend to use more four letter words: "what?"    "when?"

~Now that you can afford expensive jewelry, it's not safe to wear it anywhere.

~You notice everything they sell in stores is "sleeveless"?!!!

~What used to be freckles are now liver spots.

~Everybody whispers.

~You have three sizes of clothes in your closet of which two you will never wear.

But Old is good in some things: Old songs, Old movies, and best of all, OLD FRIENDS!



It's Not What You Gather, But What You Scatter That Tells What Kind Of Life You Have Lived.

I may not agree with all of this, but it's fun stuff anyhow!
Blessings, dear friends.

Monday Morning Gratitudes

tasks performed
a new mouse
candy only eaten at a holiday
roast chicken club sandwiches
fresh tomatoes
fresh bread
ice cream cones
falling leaves
Assurance
snuggling

Blessings!